The TV ca to life. What greeted Ryujin’s dark, half-lidded eyes was not static, not white noise, nor the jarring scream of late-night inforcials.
No—what greeted him was a colorful cartoon.
The screen showed stylized depictions of espers clashing with villains, their powers bursting across the sky in glittering explosions. Laser beams, wind blades, shimring shields—all illustrated with exaggerated flair. The animation was smooth, polished, and saturated in energy.
One hero, glowing with lightning, punched through a concrete wall. The villain—a masked esper wielding chains of fire—countered with a dramatic scream, and the entire scene exploded into light.
Ryujin stared blankly.
"...Not bad."
The flas on screen reflected faintly in his unmoving eyes.
Back on Earth, Espers of the World had nothing like this. No TV chanics. No channel-switching. The ga was imrsive, yes—but not this alive. Not this... dynamic. This wasn’t just so UI event or cinematic trailer.
This felt real.
Or at least, real enough to be strange.
Ryujin nodded slowly to himself.
"I’ll watch this later."
His voice was calm, low—spoken more out of habit than emotion.
He lowered his eyes to the remote in his hand, thumb hovering over the directional buttons.
"I should check the news. Figure out what the hell’s going on."
He pressed the right arrow.
The cartoon blinked away, replaced by a quiet, moody drama. Two people were shouting in a dark hallway. Another click.
A nature docuntary, featuring a long-haired esper living deep in the woods, ditating shirtless under a waterfall. No powers. Just isolation.
"...Weirdo," Ryujin murmured.
Another click.
Now a horror movie. Blood on walls. Screaming. Shadows crawling through doorways. Espers running for their lives as monstrous aberrations hunted them through twisted cities.
The remote clicked again. And again.
The room—dim and silent—flashed with color and movent as each new channel ca and went. Action, cody, music, battle replays, esper talent shows... Even in this alternate world, entertainnt thrived.
Ryujin leaned back against the couch, eyes watching, but expression unchanged.
Until finally...
He landed on a live broadcast.
The lighting shifted. A dark blue tint filled the room as the channel displayed a news helicopter feed soaring above a smoking skyline.
The cara panned to a wide, flaming structure—K.L. Mall, still burning in the distance. Ergency vehicles ford a periter like ants around a nest. Firetrucks. Drones. Searchlights.
At the corner of the screen, a reporter appeared.
She stood confidently inside the open side door of the chopper, wind whipping through her long black hair. A yellow blazer clung tightly around her as she spoke directly into the cara.
"—currently ongoing hostage situation inside the K.L. Mall," she said, her voice clear despite the rotor noise. "We’ve confird that a Tier 2 rogue esper is responsible for the destruction and loss of many lifes."
Ryujin leaned forward slightly, placing his elbows on his knees. His hands steepled in front of his lips, supporting his head.
The broadcast cut to a still image—a profile picture of the attacker.
A bald man with a wide, pockmarked face, heavy cheeks, and a glare that could make glass crack.
The na "Mason" flashed across the bottom of the screen in bold red letters.
The reporter continued: "Seventy-four civilians confird dead, 129 hostages still inside. Mason has demanded that Tier 4 esper Noah Flynn face him in person—claiming that if Noah refuses, he will execute every single hostage."
Ryujin narrowed his eyes.
The tension wasn’t lost on him. The stakes were clear. But he wasn’t focused on the numbers.
His attention was on the nas.
Mason and Noah Flynn.
He knew them.
From the ga.
They were both part of the early stages of the ga—one a tragic fallen peer, the other a golden boy of the hero league. The twist? They’d once trained together. But Mason, envious and overshadowed, turned into a criminal.
Ryujin exhaled quietly.
"...So it’s them."
He rembered this arc.
Sort of.
He hadn’t paid much attention back then. He’d just played the ga to fill the empty hours at a comp shop, trying to escape the weight of silence in his own apartnt. He hadn’t cared about storylines or power scaling. He just picked random skills and wandered aimlessly.
But one thing he never forgot was the ridiculous death ssage.
It popped up on his screen after his custom avatar—so gangly, weird-eyed build, got vaporized by an NPC villain.
[You were too ugly. Villain Semsy was annoyed and killed you.]
He hadn’t laughed. He’d stared at the screen for five seconds and then muttered, "Bullshit."
Ryujin sighed again, this ti through his nose.
"This world’s going to be exhausting."
The image of Mason still hovered on the screen. Angry. Bald. Pig-like in his features, though not literally.
Ryujin wasn’t worried about the hostages. Not really.
He wasn’t even worried about Mason or Noah.
What he was worried about... was the explosive, unpredictable personalities of this world’s espers. If they really had free will like the system said, that ant they could change. Deviate. Beco worse.
Or more dangerous.
And unlike back on Earth, he didn’t have a save file or a restart button.
He clicked the remote again. The news vanished.
Back ca the cartoon.
The over-the-top battles. Colorful designs. Heroes saving the day. It felt less real. Less heavy.
He let his back sink into the couch once more.
"...This is more on my speed."
For a while, he just watched.
The cartoon’s energy was strangely comforting. Heroes shouted dramatic speeches. Villains laughed maniacally. Buildings exploded, but no one died. Just dust and debris and epic music.
Eventually, Ryujin clicked off the TV.
Silence returned.
He stood, crossed the soft carpet, and made his way to the white bed in the corner of the room. It looked freshly made. Still untouched.
As he lay down, the sheets clung to his skin like clouds.
The scent of clean detergent filled his nose.
It wasn’t his old bed.
But it was... better.
His body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding from his limbs as the room dimd completely.
Eyes half-lidded, Ryujin pulled the blankets up to his chin and mumbled his final thought aloud.
"...Just let have one peaceful day tomorrow."
Sleep ca quickly after that.
__________________________________
Morning had co, but inside the apartnt, it still looked like midnight.
The thick, dark curtains hanging over the window stood firm, swallowing the daylight, refusing to let even the tiniest ray sneak through. The soft hum of city life outside barely bled into the quiet room, muffled by the heavy glass and thick walls. In that silent, still space, Kage Ryujin slept like a stone, undisturbed, untouched by alarm or worry.
He lay sideways on the white bed, tangled but comfortable. His black hair was a chaotic ss of strands falling across his forehead. One soft white pillow was tucked under his head, another nestled between his legs. A thick white blanket half-covered his body, the other half falling loosely off the bed’s edge. Limbs stretched freely—one arm flopped over the edge, his legs poking out like tree branches searching for warmth.
Unlike back on Earth, where his day would start with the harsh buzzing of his phone alarm, Ryujin woke naturally.
He blinked.
The ceiling above looked the sa. The air slled faintly of clean cotton and sun-ward wood.
Still groggy, his body slowly began to move, rolling gently out from under the blanket. The mattress gave a soft creak of protest. Sitting on the bed’s edge, he rubbed his face with both hands, yawned lightly, then gave his neck a lazy tilt left and right.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
"...Mmm."
That tiny mont of physical relief drew the closest thing to a smile from his otherwise expressionless face.
Ryujin stood and went about his morning in silence.
He straightened the bed neatly, pressing down the edges, folding the blanket with careful ease. It was habit. The kind that survived interdinsional travel.
Next, he stretched his arms high to the ceiling. A long breath escaped his lips as he rotated his wrists, cracked his knuckles, pulled his fingers, rotated his shoulders, and bent forward until his spine popped one final ti.
"Not bad," he murmured.
Finally, his eyes drifted to the heavy curtains.
He crossed the room and grabbed them by the edge, then pulled them slowly aside.
A beam of sunlight poured in—clean, golden, and warm.
It hit him square in the face.
"Ah—" Ryujin winced slightly, instinctively shielding his eyes with the back of his hand. His pupils adjusted slowly. When he finally lowered his hand, he gazed out at the morning cityscape.
Tall buildings stood in clean lines from a distance, their windows reflecting the blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Down below, smaller shops and hos spread out in quiet harmony. Cars moved sluggishly through narrow roads. A few delivery trucks stopped outside convenience stores. Pedestrians walked in clumps, so in suits, others in casual wear, heading off to start their day.
It was peaceful. Still. Alive.
He looked up toward the sky. The sun hadn’t fully risen—it was still low enough to cast long shadows across the rooftops.
"This view... isn’t so bad."
His voice was a soft mumble, but the sentint was real. In this quiet morning, he almost forgot about the chaos from last night.
The poop disaster.
The sudden teleportation.
The tier-two esper wreaking havoc in the distance.
Almost.
His stomach grumbled.
"...Guess I should check the kitchen."
He turned away from the sunlight and walked calmly into the kitchenette, his bare feet tapping lightly against the smooth flooring. He reached for the nearest cabinet instinctively—his body moving like it had done this hundreds of tis.
Click.
The cabinet door swung open.
Inside was a stockpile of instant food.
Packets of noodles, canned soups, preserved goods with colorful designs. Brands he recognized from Espers of the World. It was strange—surreal, even—to see these fictional in-ga items in real life. But here they were, solid and tangible.
Ryujin pulled out a bright red noodle packet. A chibi-style cartoon esper with flaming hair smiled confidently on the wrapper, next to bold stylized letters:
"SPICY FLA NOODLES!!"
He stared at the packaging.
"...Can’t believe I’m actually about to eat this."
His voice was dry. Neutral. Not a trace of excitent touched his face, but the statent carried weight.
Back on Earth, this was just a nu option. A line of code. Now, it was sothing he could hold, sll, and taste.
Even here, the ga world had more flavor.
Ryujin shook his head slightly, peeling the packet open and taking out the dry noodle brick and powdered seasoning. He filled a small pot with water from the sink and placed it on the induction stove. With a few button presses and flicks of his fingers, he got the water boiling.
He watched the pot silently.
Steam began to rise.
His thoughts drifted.
No system pop-ups. No loud alarms. No poop this ti.
It was peaceful. Maybe too peaceful.
Ryujin cracked an egg into the pot and stirred gently with a wooden chopstick. The spicy scent began to rise with the steam, filling the kitchen with a familiar warmth.
He reached into a drawer and found a clean ceramic bowl. It had a minimalist design—black outer surface, white inside. He poured the cooked noodles in carefully, set the bowl on the small dining table, and sat down.
No prayers. No thoughts.
Just him.
And noodles.
He took a large slurp, the heat burning his lips, but he didn’t flinch. He picked up a spoon, scooped the egg yolk, and bit through it cleanly.
The taste?
Exactly how he expected it from the ga.
"...Not bad."
The mont passed in silence.
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